


Pulling the Strings

by hyxcinthus



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, M/M, No beta we kayak like Tim, Season 5 Spoilers, but then you fall in love with him for real, listen i just love this trope, mag 194 spoilers, me writing fix it fics before the show even ends, this is purely self indulgent, what's up web!martin truthers, when you have to pretend to be in love w your boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyxcinthus/pseuds/hyxcinthus
Summary: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 5 OF THE MAGNUS ARCHIVESAnnabelle laughed. “Loosened your grip on the strings, have you?”“Jon, please, let me explain,” Martin said, ignoring Annabelle’s remarks.“What, so you can spin another web of lies?”“They weren’t lies. I—”“Stop. Talking.”or: martin has been part of the web from the very beginning and then betrays his patron because he fell in love with a scrawny, petulant archivist for real
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Pulling the Strings

Martin had liked spiders for as long as he could remember. Small spiders, big spiders, ones with spindly legs, ones with small spikes of hair sticking out of their backs. He liked the control they had over their web design. How they’d make it just the right size and shape to trap their prey. When he was younger, he’d sit in the basement and watch them work for hours on end. His mother used to yell at him for it before she’d grab a broom and tear the webs down. 

Control was something he always seemed to lack. He couldn’t control his father leaving, or how his mother reacted to that. He couldn’t control the cruelty that had been thrown at him for most of his life. So, when a woman with web tattoos covering her arms told him about a place he could fix that, he didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. 

All he needed to do was apply for a job at the Magnus Institute and he would be at the will of others no longer. Martin did as he was told. Elias Bouchard hired him almost instantly, just like his patron promised. From then on, it was easy to move around the world. He could see the strings attached to each and every person he came across. 

Occasionally, he’d see the woman with the web tattoos. She’d have the odd job for him to do, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Then, one day, she told him something peculiar: “Keep an eye on the archivist.” He didn’t know what that meant. Gertrude Robinson, the previous archivist, had mysteriously died a couple of days ago from what he’d heard. No one had been appointed as her replacement yet. However, he didn’t ask any questions. He knew something would unravel soon enough. 

And it did. 

Jonathan Sims, who previously worked in research, took Gertrude’s place.  _ Keep an eyes on the archivist. _ So, he did. He marched up to Elias’s office the next day and asked for a job as an archival assistant. Elias only grinned. Followers of the Eye always thought they knew better. That was fine by him. Martin knew exactly what strings were being pulled, where this would lead. 

Over the next couple of days, he set some things in motion. Martin let that dog in the archives, then ran into the archivists office. 

“Hey, sorry. You haven’t seen a dog, have you?”

The archivist looked up from his pile of papers. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“A dog. A- a spaniel, I think,” Martin stuttered out. 

“In general, or—” 

“No, in the archives.” 

The archivist’s faces grew more serious. “Why would there be a dog in the archives?”

After that, he established a routine of bringing him tea. The archivist, Jon, would stay at the institute rather late most days. He didn’t seem to like Martin very much, but that was okay. He didn’t need to  _ like _ Martin for Martin to watch him. So he continued bringing him tea, checking up on him, taking him out to lunch, covering him with his jacket when he fell asleep at his desk. 

He didn’t know when it happened, but one day something in him slipped. He had just come back from interviewing someone from one of the statements. Jon looked relieved when he read over the notes. 

“Well, now we know this statement was a complete waste of our time,” he said. “A woman that, er,  _ exploded _ into worms? Probably just a weak excuse to collect some renters insurance.” Jon laughed quietly to himself. 

It was a sound Martin had never heard him make. He froze in place. Jon looked up at him when he didn’t make a move to leave. 

“Oh, yes. Thank you, Martin.” 

Over the next couple of days, he found himself wanting to do more follow-up investigations. He remembered one that Jon had talked about a while ago. He wished he never did it. It led to him to be trapped in his apartment for almost a fortnight, that incessant knocking and wriggling of worms never leaving him alone. 

He didn’t like being trapped. It had been a long time since he lacked this much control. Eventually he got out, telling Jon about the whole thing. A familiar feeling rose in his chest when Jon told him he could sleep in the institute. Martin pushed it to the back of his mind. He was supposed to be watching Jon, that was it. 

The Jane Prentiss situation passed by slowly. He hated sleeping in the institute, but at least he regained some of his grip on the strings. He was glad when it was over and he got to go back to his own apartment. 

Jon got paranoid afterward. Finding Gertrude Robinson’s body seemed to have broken him. Martin was worried. He tried not to be, but he was. He attempted to tell himself it was because he didn’t want to be found out, but he knew he was too careful, too clever, for that. Even after he managed to get Jon off his trail, all he could think about was the smile he gave him when he found out Martin was innocent. 

He was glad when Jon stopped coming into work. Martin knew his job was to watch him, but perhaps this was the distance he needed. He was in control, so why wouldn’t he be able to control his own feelings? He kept telling himself that, even when Jon came back. Even when the small grin he’d started giving Martin gave him heart palpitations. Even when he’d started trusting Martin with more and more things. 

His feelings didn’t come entirely without its uses, however. When Elias looked inside his mind, searching for things to hurt him with, a lot of what he saw was Jon. It seemed to have hidden his work with the Web away. Still, he didn’t like it. 

When he received news that Jon was in a coma, Martin went to visit him in the hospital everyday. He told himself it was just his job. He had to watch the archivist, so that was what he was doing. It was a lie. He  _ knew  _ it was a lie. 

Then, when he started working for Peter Lukas, he told himself it was to distance himself, to finally get rid of the feelings that had been building up in him. It wasn’t to keep Jon safe. He was just trying to do his job as best as he could. 

He thought, at least, that he would have control over his own isolation. However, he soon found out that was a pipe dream. Jon kept finding him. Peter kept reminding him that he shouldn’t be talking to anyone. Like he had a choice. He hated the lack of control. Was it a lack of control when your own heart was doing the leading? 

He didn’t know when he gave up trying to ignore what had been running around in his head for months, years even. Perhaps it was when he was thrust into the Lonely. Nothing mattered there. There were no strings, no jobs. There was no point lying to himself. Perhaps it was the time Jon ran into his office, going off about getting out and leaving. 

“You and me.” 

That was what he’d said. 

Whenever it had happened, he knew he had accepted it as soon as he felt Jon’s hands gently cupping his face, the fog clearing from around them. 

“I see… I see you, Jon,” he said, a soft, breathy laugh escaping his throat. The first genuine laugh he’d uttered since he was marked by the Web. “I see you.” 

Jon let out a breath of relief. “Martin.” 

He didn’t know what he expected would happen. He knew where the road cut off. Even still, he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. The world shifted around him. 

And it ended. 

The Watcher’s Crown, Jon had called it. Though, Martin knew better. He knew who was really behind it all, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Jon. Instead, he continued to hold his hand through everything. Through all the fear domains and hellscapes, he was there. 

Every time he looked at the panopticon, he knew who was behind it. He knew what he had to do. Martin didn’t know when he’d made the decision to betray the Web, but he knew that he could keep that decision well hidden. However, he didn’t know it was working as well as it was until they met up with Annabelle Cane. At first, he thought she was calling him because she’d figured it out, but when they saw her at Salesa’s, she seemed oblivious to the whole thing. 

Finally, they got to the panopticon. Martin sat back and listened as Jon spoke the statements that the eye was feeding him. Rosie and Elias wrapped in fear. He didn’t need to interfere. The thread was almost completely unspooled. 

It was quiet in the moments after their argument. Annabelle showed up, like Martin knew she would, and took him to Hill Top Road. Jon went after them. When they finally met again, their eyes locked. Jon looked so hopeless. His journey had ended, but the world was still a nightmare. Martin wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. He wanted to tell him everything. Instinctually, he moved to comfort his boyfriend, but Annabelle held him back. 

“I wouldn’t do that, Martin,” she said, but Martin ignored her. It was time. “I knew something was off with you at the mansion. I just never expected you’d betray the Mother like this.” 

Jon turned to face him, worry painted across his face. “Martin?” 

Annabelle laughed. “Oh, did he not tell you? No, I suppose not,” she said. “That’s the thing about spiders. They show up where you’d least expect them.” 

“Martin, what is she talking about?” It had been awhile since Martin had seen genuine fear on his face. He hated that he had caused that fear. 

“Go on, Martin. Tell him about our patron. Tell him about your job.” Annabelle fixed her gaze on Jon. “He’s been watching you for years, making sure you didn’t step out of line, making sure you ended up exactly where you needed to be.” 

Jon backed away from him, putting as much distance between them as the small basement allowed. 

“Jon, I—” He took a step forward without thinking. 

“Stay away from me,” Jon said sharply. 

Martin froze. 

Annabelle laughed. “Loosened your grip on the strings, have you?” 

“Jon, please, let me explain,” Martin said, ignoring Annabelle’s remarks. 

“What, so you can spin another web of lies?”

“They weren’t lies. I—” 

“Stop. Talking.” 

Martin did. He turned back to Annabelle, who was smiling triumphantly. Then, he saw something he hadn’t before. The strings tied around Annabelle’s waist. There were millions of them, billions. She was it, the center of everything. The chosen one. 

Realization dawned on Annabelle’s face almost as quickly as it took for Martin to grab the web lighter out of Jon’s bag and light it. She tried to fight it, but the strings ignited too quickly. They broke off one by one. 

“This won’t work,” Annabelle yelled, all the composure she usually had completely gone. “You can’t get rid of the entities, not while there are still people to fear them.” 

“I know,” he said. Jon had told him that before. “Though, I reckon it’ll put them away for a long, long time.” 

The last string snapped and Annabelle screamed as the flames engulfed her. Martin knew what would happen next. He grabbed Jon, who was too stunned to do anything, by the arm and pulled him out of Hill Top Road. Melanie and Georgie were waiting outside, the Admiral brushing up against their legs. It made Martin smile. He looked around at the streets of the small neighborhood, no longer scattered with horrors. They were empty, but he knew that would soon change. 

“It’s burning,” Georgie said. 

Melanie let out a sigh of relief. “Good riddance.” 

When Martin looked around for Jon, he was surprised to see that the man wasn’t watching the burning building. Instead, he was watching Martin. 

“I don’t— I don’t understand,” he said. “You turned the world back.” 

“I did,” Martin said. 

“Why?” 

Georgie had picked he Admiral up, watching them with a worried expression. Melanie was listening intently. 

“Because I love you, you idiot.” 

Jon shook his head. “Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true,” Martin said. “I— I tried so hard to not… fall in love with you, but eventually I did. Eventually, I cared more about you than the Web. I didn’t care if that would give me less control over everything. I didn’t  _ need _ to control everything anymore. I never needed to control anything in the first place.” 

Jon stayed quiet. 

“Look, I’m sorry I never told you sooner, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought if I stopped doing what they asked, they couldn’t do the ritual.” 

“Well, that was stupid of you,” Jon said. He still looked angry. 

“Can’t you just look inside my brain and see if I’m telling the truth?” 

Jon shook his head. “I— I can’t. The Eye, it… it let me go.” 

“That… that’s great, Jon.” 

“Yeah,” Jon said, no enthusiasm behind his words. “Tell me one thing, Martin. Have you ever… manipulated me into doing anything?”

Martin shook his head. “My only job was to watch you, make sure you didn’t get yourself killed.” 

Jon nodded. He stepped closer to Martin, looking up at the tall man. “So… you really love me, then? That wasn’t a lie?” 

“It wasn’t, I promise.” 

He bit his lip, contemplating something. Then, he wrapped his arms around Martin’s waist, burying his face in his chest. Martin hugged him back. They stood like that for a while. Georgie and Melanie had sat themselves on the curb at some point, playing with the Admiral. 

“I was… I was really scared back there,” he stated. Hill Top Road was almost a pile of ash at that point. The fire still burned, but soon it would wipe away all traces of the place. “I thought—” 

“I know,” Martin cut him off. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“Martin,” Jon said quietly. He pulled him in for a kiss, wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck. They broke apart only when the sound of a car horn made them both jump. 

Looking around, Martin saw people going about their business. Mowing their lawns, checking their mail. No one seemed to think anything was wrong. It was like they’d forgotten, like the apocalypse had never happened. The car honked again and Jon dragged Martin out of the street. 

Georgie and Melanie grinned at them. They were holding hands. The Admiral had found his way into Jon’s arms. 

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Georgie suggested. 

Jon grinned tiredly. “Yeah,” he said, lacing his fingers together with Martin’s. “Let’s go home.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't even a theory (although I have been screaming abt webpocolypse and web!martin for months now) but ik jonny will hurt me so this is here for when i'm in denial about the actual canon thank you sm


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